


It Doesn't Matter

by Writing_In_Denial



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Child Papyrus (Undertale), Child Sans (Undertale), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Good W. D. Gaster, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Nightmares, No Romance, Parent W. D. Gaster, Probably pretty dark, References to Depression, Sad Sans (Undertale), Sans (Undertale) Has Issues, Sans (Undertale) Has Night Terrors, Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Sans (Undertale)-centric, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Young Papyrus (Undertale), Young Sans (Undertale), please read the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_In_Denial/pseuds/Writing_In_Denial
Summary: Gaster notices things, but doesn't want to admit that something is wrong. Sans has been going through a lazy streak, nothing more- right? Though perhaps behavioral issues aren't the only thing wrong with his oldest child.---An AU in which Gaster doesn't fall into the core, and is Dadster to our favorite skelebros. Sans has nightmares of alternate timelines/universes- and is spiraling out of control.





	1. Do Skeletons Dream of Ghost Sheep?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a purely self-indulgent piece that I'm planning.I wanted to write something depressing with a happy ending, so I was like- hey- Undertale is a great fandom for this. Who better than our depressed bag of bones Sans. Then I got inspiration from some Dadster comics, and knew I had found my motivation. Not beta read, please let me know if you find any errors. Comment if you enjoy.

_Title: It doesn’t matter._

_Chapter one: Do Skeletons Dream of Ghost Sheep?_

_Words: 2500+_

_Rating: Mature. There is nothing sexually explicit or vulgar language, but the themes and topics may be a little dark for younger audiences. Tread lightly._

_Trigger Warnings: References to self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of death/mortality, and early onset childhood depression. It only gets darker before it gets brighter kiddos, protect yourselves._

_Spoilers: Mentions of genocide route ending, mentioning of alternate timelines._

_AU: In which Gaster doesn’t fall into the core and is the Dadster of our favorite skelebros._

_Summary: Sans is plagued with dreams, things are dark- and get darker as he realizes he isn’t afraid to die. On the surface, it gets mistaken for becoming lazy._

_\---_

_“Happy tenth birthday.”_

_“ **I’m so proud of you my son.** ”_

_“WOWIE, YOU’RE TEN. DO YOU FEEL ANY DIFFERENT?”_

“Do you think I could talk to you for a moment alone, I hate to pull you away from your son’s party…”

_“Nonsense, honey I’ll be right back. Make sure you watch them—”_

_“ **Of course, dear. They are my children too. Go, I’m certain I can manage to keep them alive and mostly unharmed for the five minutes you are gone.** ”_

_“YOU WON’T MISS HIS CAKE WILL YOU MOM?”_

_“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, now go play with your brother. He seems lonely, and you can’t let him be lonely on his birthday- now can you?”_

**_Don’t leave._ **

**_Please._ **

**_E V E R Y O N E  F A D E S  T O  D U S T._ **

_\---_

Sans woke up, panting, despite the fact that he didn’t need air. He trembled, hands shaking and his bones rattling with tremors of fear and misery that still clung to the edges of his soul from the fragments of his dream that still haunted him. His mind rapidly cleared of lethargy, thought there was a certain fatigue that settled into his bones.

How long has it been since he’s dreamed of the memories of the past? Especially **those** memories. He wrapped a hand around his lowest rib, wondering if he can rip out his soul to make it stop hurting so bad.

Two years since the fifth human fell, two years since- since-

He shuddered to think of it.

Maybe the dreams of what’s to come are better than the dreams of the past. At least the reality of the other dreams is fragmented so much where he knows it’s a dream. Even if it’s a nightmare.

His left eye starts to flicker with blue magic, and he tried to contain his sobs and breathless gasps. Sweat starts to bead on his skull, and he clenches his hand tighter around his lower rib, feeling it creak and groan in protest. The pain hurts, but it’s not enough to rip him from his thoughts. Pathetic, he’s twelve and he’s crying over dreams. They can’t hurt him-

Sans let out a low keening noise at the thought of his brother’s dust and scarf flickering in the wind, a human with red eyes. Sans had encountered them eventually, tried to hold them back as long as he could… He knew he was going to die. That’s how it always turned out.

He tried not to be afraid, but it always felt so real. So intense. The pain as the knife was finally brought down on him, it was enough sometimes to make him grunt in his sleep. Phantom pains still lingering across his chest as he thrashed awake.

In those dreams, he was older, so was his brother. Though his father wasn’t anywhere to be seen in those dreams.

Sans got his breathing under control, though a feeling of hopelessness rapidly took over where the fear had once been. He almost missed the sensation of fear, if only to occupy the space where the crushing apathetic numbness and worthlessness resided. Despite being a dream, he felt guilt for every one of those dreams.

For not saving anyone.

For being weak.

For dying.

He flopped back onto his bed, letting go of his lower rib finally. He probably fractured it- wouldn’t be the first time. He’d deal with it. It’s his fault for being weak, after all.

Sans looks to his alarm clock and notices it’s only three in the morning. He still has three hours before he has to wake up.

He tries to go to sleep.

He really does try.

He ends up staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering if twelve years is too short of a life to be able to clock out early. His eye sockets are burning, and he memorizes the cracks in the ceiling by time morning comes, though to be fair- it wouldn’t be the first time he’s memorized their patterns before.

Morning comes too early, and not soon enough.

\---

His day goes on normally- in a blur like usual. In the morning, he annoys his little brother with puns, his father makes them breakfast- and then takes them to school.

His teacher bemoans to his father when he picks him up from school later that day, claiming that his grades are slipping further and mentions the several times he fell asleep in her class. ‘Such a waste of such a bright young mind.’ ‘A loss of potential.’ The teacher had helpfully chimed.

That’s just what he is, he supposes. A bitter disappointment that can’t do anything right.

A morbid laugh tries to worm his way out of his throat.

He barely contains it.

When he gets home, he avoids the lecture soon to follow from his father by helping Papyrus with his schoolwork. Sans doesn’t really want to, but he figures it’s better than the same droning words he’s memorized before. Besides, he loves his brother- and Sans feels temporary joy at the way Papyrus’ face lights up when Sans patiently walks him through a problem.

He can feel his father’s stare on him from the monster's spot in the kitchen. The young skeleton ignores it, it’s become habit anyways.

Repetition.

Rinse and repeat.

The feeling of hollowness doesn’t leave. He eats dinner and notes how he doesn’t feel any fuller.

Such an odd feeling, he feels empty and heavy at the same time. Almost as if he’s nothing, but also a burden. Both of which a gross understatement, but it’s accurate enough he supposes.

After eating dinner, he reads ‘Peek-A-Boo with Fluffy Bunny’ to his brother- as he does every night after bath time. His brother smiles softly at each of the pictures and curls close to Sans. Sans doesn’t even read the words off the page, he had done this motion so many times that it’s second nature by now just to say them.

When Papyrus is softly snoring, out of muscle memory (not like he has muscles though) he goes on auto-pilot and scoots himself quietly off the bed, pulls Papyrus’ blankets up and tucks it under his baby brother’s chin like he knows he likes. He presses his teeth in a soft ‘kiss’ to his temporal bone, puts the book away- and walks out of the room. Softly closing the door. He looks down the hall towards the dining room, and like usual- his father is at the head of the table.

His father is holding a cup of steaming liquid in one floating hand, given the smell- it’s probably coffee. In another pair of conjured hands is a notepad, and another purple transparent hand is jotting things down with a pen. His father’s eye lights are lingering on a page in what seems to be a scientific journal done by the previous royal scientist before him. His dark lean form is intimidating, like a shadow. He doesn’t even look up, he doesn’t need to. “Sans, I believe we need to talk.”

His body is on auto-pilot again. He walks down the hall with only a moment of hesitation, then climbs the seat at the end of the table, at the opposite end of Gaster’s spot. If he was feeling playful, he’d kick his feet some since he couldn’t even touch the floor.

He doesn’t.

There is a long moment of silence. Sans doesn’t mind it; his eye lights flicker out for a moment. It gives his father a chance to really look at him, to see the darkness under his eye sockets. The vacantness in his expression. The stillness of his form. If it wasn’t for the occasional twitch, Gaster would have wondered if his son had been turned into a statue.

They both let the silence stretch out far longer than necessary. Gaster, in anticipation of what he was going to say- and Sans in a vague sense of déjà vu.

It didn’t matter, his father would basically say how disappointed he was in Sans. Take away a privilege of his as punishment and send him off to his room with a curt and tense ‘I still will always love you’ spiel. That’s how it always went.

He was trying, but Sans was making it difficult for him.

Sometimes, Sans wondered if it would be easier if he wasn’t around. Sure, Papyrus wouldn’t have anyone to read to him, but Gaster could take over easily enough. His little brother would barely notice his absence, and maybe…maybe it would give his father a fresh breath of relief. Something taken off his plate, a burden he wouldn’t have to deal with.

Sans was observant, he noticed that his father had darkness under his eye sockets too. His hands would tremble sometimes, and he was drinking more coffee lately. Trying to stay up later, to work longer. His work was making him stressed, tensed. Sans didn’t know much about it, all he knew is from what glances he stole from confidential papers when his father was passed out and Sans snuck into his office, seems like it was something to do with providing power and electricity for the Underground. He doesn’t do it anymore though, sneaking around, sure the documents had proved interesting in the past- though these days- Sans barely has an interest in anything.

It was too much effort anyways.

“Sans-“His father finally spoke. He had conjured another set of hands to sign while he spoke, it was simply habitual by now. Sans looked up, summoning his eye lights again, they settled on his father. “I have to start off by saying that I am very, very disappointed in your behavior recently in the classroom.” Heh, looks like Sans hit that nail right on the head. The nail that was going directly into his coffin.

“i know.” He said, not managing to break away from the apathetic tone. Sans couldn’t even afford to make himself even act like he cared, he crossed his arms on top of the table and let his chin settle on the bones of his forearms. His eye lights still on Gaster, showing that he was paying attention. Reluctantly. Though, still paying attention albeit for now.

There was frustration in his father’s voice. “How many times do we need to discuss this?” His physical hands, not his conjured ones- came to rest on top of the table. His fingers interlacing tightly and the holes in his palms visible at this angle, the magical hands above him continued to sign out his words. Their movements were jerky, and not as fluid or controlled as usual. He wasn’t frustrated, this was anger- Sans noted. His father’s voice raised a level, though not intense enough to gain his attention. “This is the third time this week that your teacher has had a problem with your behavior. You should know by now that-“

Sans felt himself go off into a trance.

It really wasn’t enough to keep his attention.

He felt like he was under water, everything around him was muffled- and his entire chest cavity ached. There was a constant pressure on his extremities like he was a bug being crushed under a giant boot. He was drowning, suffocating, yet floating and falling all at once.

Nothing mattered.

The dreams wouldn’t stop, no matter how much effort he put into his daily life. Maybe the dreams weren’t even dreams, maybe they were prophecy or divination. Maybe they were foretelling the anguish and pain that Sans would be forced to go through. Taunting him with the knowledge that he didn’t want to know.  

Maybe if he dusted himself first, then he wouldn’t have to go through with any of the pain and torture that these dreams prophesized. Maybe Sans could just let it all go, and he’d be okay. Sure, he was scared of the possibility on non-existence. Though at this point, the fear was washed away by the cold numbing indifference. He cared for those around him, deeply. He couldn’t stand the thought of loosing his brother, or his father.

Though they would be fine if he went first.

They had each other, they could get through it. Couldn’t they? Would they mourn him? If so, for how long before it went back to normal? A day? A week? A month?

“Sans!” His father barked out harshly, Gaster’s physical hands slamming against the table- and startling the skeleton in question out of his stupor. Gaster was silent for a moment, concern etching into his face as his eye lights settled on the door to Papyrus’ room. Making sure that he hadn’t woken up his younger child because of his brief loss of control in his temper. When no noise came from the room, Gaster sighed set down his coffee, clip board and pen all on the table. All of the conjured hands dissipating except those he used to sign with that were above his head.

Gaster rubbed his temporal bones, and his disembodied floating hands started to sign. “I’m taking away your joke book. No visits to Waterfall again either. You can earn them back later in the week, provided your attitude changes.”

“ok.” 

His father seems to look surprised. “That’s it?”

“not like i can do anything about it, not until you’ve decided i’ve earned it back.” It doesn’t matter.

Gaster seemed to fumble for a few seconds. “That’s…. very mature of you Sans. I’m sure you’ll do fine at earning back your privileges.” Gaster stood for a moment, and beckoned Sans over. He followed, it was repetition- instinctual. Sans got up, and Gaster knelt to put his hands on his shoulders. Looking Sans right in the eyes, and unwavering- he smiled. “I’m sure we can get past this little indolent streak of yours.” He then made Sans look into his eyes directly. “Sans- you do know I love you- right?”

“of course, pops.” It doesn’t matter.

“Very deeply, with all of my heart.” He insisted, hand cupping Sans’ jaw.

“i know. you tell me all the time.” **_It doesn’t matter_** _._

Gaster nodded. “Indeed, it doesn’t make it any less true. Now please- please stop being so lazy. You are not lacking intelligence, which makes me so frustrated when you waste your potential…. well- I suppose that’s enough lecturing for now.” He clicked his teeth to the top of Sans’ skull. “Go do your homework and then go to bed please. I will be coming to check on you in an hour.”

“ok.” **_I DON’T MATTER._**

His father pulls him into a tight hug, presses one more kiss to the top of his skull- before he lets Sans retreat to his room.

Sans does his school work in a daze, he knows everything on the paper- he doesn’t need standardized testing to tell him that.

He finishes sooner, rather than later- and he curls up into bed after putting everything back in his bookbag. This time he lays on his side and faces the wall, his rib that he had clenched onto so tightly that morning pinches in a familiar sharp ache. It keeps him company and makes him feel less lonely. It reminds him he exists.

It’s a bittersweet thought.

His father, true to his word- comes in an hour or so later. Sans pretends to be asleep, as Gaster tsks at the sight of his messy room. He hears his father shuffle around, picking up after him no doubt like a mother hen- before leaning over to press another soft kiss to Sans’ temple. “Goodnight.” He whispers.

It makes him…. feel warm inside; happy.

As soon as the door is shut behind his father, and he’s left alone in the dark again- does he realize he’s slipping further down.

He hears Gaster go into Papyrus’ room, probably to check on him as well and give him his goodnight kiss despite having gone to bed a while ago and being fast asleep.

When his father’s footsteps disappear down the hallway, and the hall light turns off- only then does he roll onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Plunged into darkness, the only thing lighting the room is the faint flicker of his own eye lights. He feels the dark closing in around him.

Silently, he cries until morning comes.


	2. A Concerned Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within the classroom setting, someone begins to notice that Sans is….more withdrawn than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, I'm going to try to update this story at least once a week on Sundays. Though lucky for you guys, you got chapter two three days early. Chapter two has been done and sitting on my computer for a while now, but I couldn't connect my computer to the internet until now. Anyways, as usual- it's not beta read. Let me know if there are any inconsistencies or mistakes please!

_Title: It Doesn’t Matter._

_Chapter two: A Concerned Notice_

_Words: 3000_

_Rating: Mature. There is nothing sexually explicit or vulgar language, but the themes and topics may be a little dark for younger audiences. Tread lightly._

_Trigger Warnings: References to self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of death/mortality, and early onset childhood depression. It only gets darker before it gets brighter kiddos, protect yourselves._

_Spoilers: Mentions of genocide route ending, mentioning of alternate timelines._

_AU: In which Gaster doesn’t fall into the core and is the Dadster of our favorite skelebros._

_Summary: Within the classroom setting, someone begins to notice that Sans is….more withdrawn than usual._

_\---_

Heavy.

Yes, he feels- heavy. That is an appropriate word.

He feels it in his bones, filling and replacing marrow- turning it into lead.

He’s exhausted, he hadn’t fallen asleep last night. If he did, it had only been a few minutes of light poor-quality slumber. It was unsatisfying.

At least no nightmares.

His perpetual smile changes into something bitter.

Tear streaks had dried on the front of his facial bones. The dried crusty magical residue making sticky tracks that made his face itch. He looked at the time on his clock and sighed. It was time to get up. If he didn’t start his morning routine soon, then his brother would bang on the door until he did get up.

Sans could try to pretend he’s sick, but his father would probably see right through it. Given the fact that he’s a scientist, he’s probably not gullible enough to fall for it. Either that, or his father would be put into a state of panic and would drag him to the doctor’s. No, neither option was viable. He might as well just get on with it.

He couldn’t muster enough motivation to roll himself out of bed, but he did it anyway.

He wiped his face off on his blanket, getting rid of the evidence of his tears. He then stands and slowly starts to do his morning routine.

Sans feels that he is a perpetual motion machine (if they ever found a way to defy the laws of physics to make it work that is.) as long as he was moving- he was okay. On the surface, he was a well-oiled machine that did its tasks through routine and memory.

As long as he didn’t stop, it’d be okay. As long as he didn’t pause- as long as he didn’t have a moment to himself to think. Because thinking is dangerous and thinking made him fall apart.

He didn’t even know what set off his crying the night before. He had been lonely, sure- but shouldn’t he be used to that by now?

Sans wasn’t sure if he preferred apathy over feeling. It washed over him in waves lately, either being one or the other. On one hand, the loneliness and the melancholy were enough for him to wish he _couldn’t_ feel anything. Though the apathy meant that he wouldn’t be able to feel happiness again, that he was really broken beyond repair. If a monster couldn’t feel the emotion that was a main part of their magical makeup, then that meant they were just a step away from-

_falling down._

He froze in the middle of putting on his shirt. A laugh bubbled out of him, he wasn’t fast enough to smash it down.

It was bland laughter.

Of course, how could he have been so blind.

He was falling.

“WHAT’S SO FUNNY BROTHER?” Papyrus asked from behind the door, he must have already gotten dressed and was going down to get breakfast. Sans was pulled out of his thoughts, and his senses overwhelmed him. He could smell butter and syrup, a sign that they were probably having pancakes. His father was humming idly as usual to the radio in their kitchen- and Papyrus was just on the other end of the door. The shuffling of fabric indicating he was likely having trouble putting on his winter jacket. “IT BETTER NOT BE YOU THINKING OF MORE PUNS TO TORMENT ME WITH.”

It was a dizzying sensation, like he was being dragged out of his own skull. This was his life, his family- there was nothing wrong with it.

So why were more tears trickling down his cheekbones?

He covered his mouth, his other hand coming to clench on the side of the dresser.

“THAT SILENCE IS RATHER OMINOUS BROTHER.”

He wiped away his tears with a shaking hand, shuffling to quickly pull on his shirt- he grabbed his jacket too. He quickly composed himself, making sure his voice wouldn’t crack or break- and with a smile and opened the door. “i don’t know what you mean paps. it’s going tibia good day.”

His smile almost became real when Papyrus let out an annoyed yell.

“Boys. Breakfast is ready.”

“oh pops, don’t you know it goes right through us?”

Papyrus gave another shriek and stomped down the stairs in a fit of mock anger.

Still- Sans knew.

It wasn’t going to be a good day.

\---

Sans was half asleep as usual when his father dropped him off at school, he gave Papyrus a parting kiss on the skull. It looked like he wanted to give Sans one too, but he didn’t give his father the chance. Ducking away and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. He didn’t miss his father’s frown or flash of hurt, Sans just choose to ignore it.

He’s just a burden anyways.

Sans walks Papyrus to the main hall before they split to go to their respective class. Papyrus doesn’t give Sans a chance to dodge the bone crushing hug, the older skeleton pats his brother on top of the skull and wishes him a good day. He means it too.

He gets to class, and everything is too loud and too bright. His head already hurts, but if it didn’t then he would have gotten a migraine just from the awful florescent lights. He’s quiet and withdrawn, avoiding everyone to the best of his abilities. When he sits down at his desk, he doesn’t grace anyone with any words, he just drops his bookbag and kicks it under his chair- then bows his head to rest it on the desk.

He doesn’t know when, or how he falls asleep, but when his eye lights flicker back- it’s due to someone pelting him in the head with wads of paper. He goes to glare at whoever did it, but then realizes they are in the middle of role call and the teacher is only a few names away from calling his.

He glances, noticing it was Alphys who had been throwing the balls of paper at him. He wipes the drool off his face and manages to give a small smile. They never interacted much, since Sans is usually avoiding everyone, but they were paired up a few times for projects. Maybe if Sans wasn’t so messed up, then maybe they could have been friends.

In any case, the dinosaur monster had been keeping an eye out for him it seems. She gives a wobbly smile back before going back to jot something down in her planner.

“Sans Font?” The teacher, a gazelle monster- looked up. Sans gave a lazy wave and a lack lustered ‘sup’ in acknowledgement.

After the last names are called, it’s time for the teacher to collect homework. Sans leaves his at the corner of his desk and half-heartedly tries not to slip into a coma.

He’s exhausted, he hasn’t gotten any good sleep this past week. Or month- or year. In fact, Sans can’t remember the last time he fell asleep and stayed asleep the whole night without some sort of night terror to wake him up.

He remembers when they first started. Back then, he’d scream when he woke up.

It caused a lot of late nights for his father, and sometimes he’d even wake up Papyrus with his fits. Sans hated it, hated being a burden to them, he hated it so much. With every last fiber of even the smallest bone in his body.

He made a habit of clapping his hand over his mouth when he woke up. At least until the nightmares stopped making him scream in his sleep. His father assumed they were gone, Sans had told him as much.

Sans didn’t want anyone to worry over him, he wasn’t worth it.

He dozes off throughout civics, he wakes up at the end of algebra to do a worksheet- he barely manages to keep his eye lights focused for earth science. He doesn’t bother getting up for lunch, instead he stays in the room with the teacher while the other kids head out of the room to go eat with their friends. By the time the teacher comes back from her five-minute disappearance into the breakroom to get her own lunch and a coffee, Sans is asleep again.

\---

“I BELIEVE IN YOU HUMAN! I’LL ALWAYS BELIEVE IN YOU.”

_There’s a moment of silence that stretches between the older version of his brother, and a faint silhouette of a human. Sans is paralyzed, no matter how many times Sans tries to get his mouth open to warn Papyrus…._

_He just can’t move._

_There’s a sadistic smile and a glint of metal in the artificial sunlight of the underground. The human is fast._

“OH-“

_His body turns to dust first._

_His skull drops off of his body and rolls in front of the human. Still talking, though pained._

_The human knows that Papyrus is going to tell them that he knows they can change, they put a foot on Papyrus’ skull before he can say anything. There is a faint crunch as they lean their weight into it- their smile twitching higher on their face as the skull beneath them turns to dust._

\---

He doesn’t scream when he wakes up, in fact- he only gives a minimalistic jerk that could be played off as a particularly hard twitch. The memories flicker and it takes a moment for him to realize where he is. They are in the middle of literacy. He’s curled up on his desk.

Sans looks around and is relieved when no one seems to notice the sweat that had accumulated on the ridge of his temporal bone, or the slight panic that flashed across his features. He feels hot but doesn’t shrug off his jacket. Instead he slips his hands deep into his pockets, he wishes that the oversized blue material would swallow him whole.

He doesn’t get back to sleep.

Not when his soul is still thrumming with anxiety. The corners of his vision threatening to flitter back to that cold snowy scene.

Sans tries to pay attention, but instead he just feels an intense and overwhelming urge to cry. He honestly doesn’t know how he keeps the tears at bay, though remembers that social humiliation is a pretty good reason to continue to fight back his feelings.

“In honor of the Underground’s Thanksgiving memorial for when King Asgore created New Home and promised monsterkind a return to the surface- we will continue to hope for this promise to ring true. However, we also will not despair, but instead remember that which we are thankful for. Which gives us joy.” The gazelle monster said, as she started to pass out papers. “In this assignment, you will write down at least ten things that make you happy, you’ll do an essay later this week based on these things.” Sans lifts himself up into a sitting position- frowning at the paper handed to him.

Ten? Why so many?

The other students seemed to be glad to start their own papers, jotting down things that made them happy. Sans only knew of two things that brought him any kind of joy.

He sighed and wrote down his brother and his father. After that, he drew a blank of anything else he could write.

If it was a ‘write down all the things that make you miserable’ Sans could easily do a hundred of them. Though it wasn’t, and he was still drawing a blank.

He thought idly of all the things he used to like, charting out the bioluminescent moss clumps on the ceiling of Waterfall with his telescope and pretending they were actual stars? Reading through quantum physics books? Making puns?

No, none of them really gave him joy anymore.

By the time the teacher came by to pick up their papers, he still only had two things down. The teacher frowned when she picked up Sans’ paper, though she didn’t say anything. He didn’t miss the sidelong glance she gave him though.

He just chose to ignore it. Like he does everything else.

\---

When his father came to pick them up, the teacher asked to speak with Gaster- again. Gaster had given Sans a very sour look.

This time was different though, this time, she asked to speak with Sans not present. Usually she likes to talk to them both. This time, not so much.

He doesn’t bother eavesdropping at the door, too much effort. Instead, he stays seated next to Papyrus on a bench outside the classroom as his younger brother energetically babbles about his day while swinging his legs in boredom.

\---

Gaster sighs as he sits down in front of the seat pulled in the front of the desk. The teacher sits behind her desk. “Mrs. Docras, I’m sorry for whatever troub-“

“I’m worried about him.”

The skeleton had a flash of surprise flicker across his cracked features that he couldn’t hide, he folds his hands-on top of his knee that was crossed over his other leg. “I’m sorry…excuse me? I believe you lost me.” There is an anxious lilt to his voice, his son’s teacher simply frowns further. Her eyes looking troubled, and sincerely concerned.

She cleared her throat, and leaned forwards some in her seat. “Dr. Gaster, I have been teaching for many years now. In child education, well- we’re taught to see signs. Sometimes children, especially naturally private children- don’t talk about what’s bothering them. Or if something is wrong with them.”

The Royal Scientist looked conflicted. A suddenly dangerous tone came to his voice. “Are you saying there is something _wrong_ with my child, Mrs. Docras?”

She puttered. “N-No. Not at all. I just, sometimes children don’t say what is on their mind. Perhaps they are feeling neglected at home, or maybe they have trouble learning from disabilities-“

“ ** _Excuse me?_** “ The teacher looked startled at the practically venomous response. “My child is bright, kind, and nothing is wrong with him. He is perfect the way he is, and he is certainly not neglected at home.” He takes a deep breath to compose himself. The rage fizzling out into something akin to annoyance. “I love both of my sons, surely Sans may be going through an indolent streak, but every child goes through their phases.” He stands. “I believe we are done here.”

“Dr. Gaster-“ She jumps up. “I’m- I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to say anything is wrong with him, I just…” She pulled out a paper from the stack. “The student’s assignment today in literacy was to write down ten things that made them happy. Sans only put down two, that was you… and his brother. I’m not saying anything bad- I just know symptoms. He sleeps in class, he looks like he hasn’t been getting sleep elsewhere. He stopped talking to other students and is withdrawn. This seems more than a behavioral problem or a phase, and it needs to be spoken about…perhaps- perhaps even with a specialized professional in the field?”

The skeleton feels slightly bitter, he knows he shouldn’t. Though it pulses inside his soul with resentment and a wash of red hot anger. “My son does not need to see a psychologist.” His words were scathing. It made the teacher shrink back. “You act as if he’s ready to _fall_. Sans is fine, a little lazy- but fine. He’s my child. I have raised both of my sons not to be afraid of telling me anything, as such- he tells me everything. If something was wrong, he’d tell me.”

“I-“ She sighs in defeat. “Of course. I’m…I’m sorry. Please have a wonderful weekend Dr. Gaster.”

\---

“that was faster than your usual talks- is something wrong pops?” The face that his father is making is a face that Sans only saw a few times before. It was particularly terrifying, and Sans was just hoping it wasn’t directed at him.

Gaster noticed his son’s anxiousness and sighed. Releasing his pent-up anger. “I’m sorry Sans. The teacher and I just…had a disagreement. That’s all.” He assured, rubbing the top of Sans’ skull. Usually Sans would pull away, though this time he settled into the contact. “Where is your brother?”

“he went to go say goodbye to undyne.” As his father pulled his hand away, Sans frowned some. “are- are you sure you’re okay pops?”

There was a long moment of silence. Suddenly, Gaster crouched down right in front of Sans where he was sitting on the bench. Gaster took one of Sans’ small hand in his own large ones- his face looking pensive and serious. “Sans. I need you to be absolutely honest with me.”

“okay- “

“No lies. Promise me this.”

Everything about the conversation was pushing Sans’ into the feeling of unease. His other hand became hidden in the depths of the pocket of his jacket. “i promise i’ll tell the truth pops.”

His father squeezed the hand he was holding gently. “Good, now- you’d tell me if anything was wrong. Yes? You’re…. you’re okay- you’re not sad or upset. Correct?”

“i’m fine pops. honest.” The lie was bitter tasting. Though the relief that it brought to his father’s features made everything worth it. “everything is good, why would i even be upset? i’ve got a great life with you an’ paps.” It’s something he berates himself over and over for again when he’s alone with his thoughts. He should be happy, why isn’t he?

His father didn’t give a verbal acknowledgement, but instead just nodded and pulled Sans in for a hug. “Okay… thank you for putting my mind at ease, my son.” Sans knew he wouldn’t mind staying in the hug for a long time, he felt warm- and safe. He didn’t feel lonely. Though his father was already pulling away, and so he did too. Again, he had the urge to cry.

Liar.

Fraud.

“Now, let’s go find your brother.” He let’s go of Sans before standing to his full height. Sans gets up too.

From inside his jacket pocket, Sans finally uncrosses his fingers that had been crossed.

He couldn’t even give his father one promise? Could he?


End file.
